


Madness Takes Its Toll by various

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A walk in the demented mind of the Editor as she experiences zine-farr, and those of senad who attempted to thwart her madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness Takes Its Toll by various

 

Hello All,

For those of you not on senad, you are about to receive two longish  
posts of some rather wild goings-on which were perpetrated on the  
membership by a certain Editor, who shall remain nameless...  
(Mysti take a bow!). 

Editor is in the midst of Zine Farr (preparing too many zines for a  
certain *small* con which is to be held soon in Lansing Michigan).  
Thus, she was NOT in the best of moods. She wrote a tidbit and killed  
off Jim. Others on the list, could not let such a situation continue  
and attempted to rescue the dear boy from his fate. Editor was  
determined however, and thus ensued this melee.

As you'll be able to tell, the story took a number of directions. I've  
done my best to concat this in an orderly manner. If it doesn't make  
sense, drugs and alcohol should help. May I also suggest you not eat or  
drink anything WHILE reading this. Before or after, but not during.

You have your assignment...Good luck!

Sherry Z

* * *

Main Branch, #1 -- Editor 

Blair held Jim closer, cradling his limp head against his chest, letting his hair fall down to hide Jim from prying eyes. "Oh, my sweet baby..." he whispered, beginning to rock back and forth. "We'll go home now. Get you out of this cold. You're so cold, baby. We need to get you warmed up--" He stopped as a chocolate brown hand gently covered his shoulder. 

"Blair?" Simon said softly. "You need to let go now." 

"He's cold, Simon," Blair answered, not meeting the captain's eyes. "Get him a blanket, will you? He's so cold." 

"Blair, they need to check you out," Simon gestured vaguely at the EMTs Blair now saw standing a respectful distance away. "They need to make sure you're okay. Here," he slid his arm between Jim and Blair, carefully holding the limp form, "I'll take care of Jim. You go with them." 

A paramedic helped Blair reluctant rise from the ground. "Hold him close, Simon," he called as they led him toward the ambulance. "He hates being cold. I'll be back, Jim! Not long, love. I'll be right back." 

A tear Simon wasn't quick enough to catch fell on Jim Ellison's lifeless body and slid down one cold cheek. "Damn."  
  


* * *

Main branch, #2 -- Alexis 

Editor had the nerve to write: 

> A tear Simon wasn't quick enough to catch fell on Jim Ellision's  
>lifeless body and slid down one cold cheek. "Damn." 

Jim's spirit rose up out of the cold body and came face to face with the gleaming green eyes of the black panther. He looked around and saw Simon leaning over his body, crying. 

"I'm dead?" Jim asked the cat. 

The cat nudged Jim's body's hand and walked around him in a circle. 

"Where's Blair?" 

The cat flicked his tail in the direction of the ambulance. 

Jim looked at the hole in his chest. The bullet had penetrated the vest. "I'm a mess." 

The cat nodded. 

"You're going to make me go back." 

The cat licked Jim's body's face. 

"And it's gonna hurt like hell." 

The cat butted Jim's body's hip. 

"But I can be with Blair.' 

The cat nodded. 

Jim looked around at the chaos that was the crime scene, realizing he was the crime. Simon's tears dropped onto Jim's body's face. Jim couldn't bear to think of Blair's pain. "Can I see him?" 

The cat paced around the body. 

"No time, huh?" 

The cat licked the dead face again. 

Jim pushed himself back into the lifeless hulk and groaned. 

The panther trotted off into the darkness. 

"He's breathing!"Simon yelled. "Get over here."  
  


* * *

Main Branch, #3 -- Editor 

Alexis dared to rebutt: 

> The panther trotted off into the darkness.  
> "He's brathing!" Simon yelled. "Get over here." 

Blair snapped to awareness at Simon's shout, his lethargic and shock-stiffened body reanimating with a suddeness that surprised the EMT working to get a blood pressure reading on him. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! He's breathing!" He grabbed the EMT's shirt collar. "Did you hear him, Jim's breathing!" He began twisting, trying to dislodge the pressure cuff and IV the EMT had worked so hard to get him to accept. "I have to get over there! Let me go!" 

"Sir! Please, sir," the woman tried, rescuing the cuff before Blair destroyed it in his haste. "Sir, calm down. We'll go help your friend, but first I want to make sure that--" 

"No!" Blair cut her off. "Now! We have to get over there now!" 

"Hurry!" Simon called, waving his arm. "It's shallow, but he's breathing!" 

The EMT leaned forward and called to the driver of the ambulance. "Harry, this one's gonna have kittens if we don't get over there. Back 'er up so we won't have so far to carry him." 

"Right," Harry agreed. He put the ambulance in reverse and slowly began to back toward Simon and Jim, a loud, shrill "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" filling the air. 

"C'mon," Simon urged, "get over here! He's breathing! He's actually--" 

KA-THUMP! KA-THUMP! 

Simon looked down at the man who had just been run over and squashed beyond recognition. Wincing, he looked up into Blair's face and shrugged. "Sorry, my mistake."  
  


Hey, don't screw with Editor. When I kill somebody, they STAY dead!  
  


* * *

Main Branch, #4 -- Alexis 

Editor declared: "Hey, don't screw with Editor. When I kill somebody, they STAY dead. 

> KA-THUMP! KA-THUMP!  
> Simon looked down at the man who had just been run over and squashed  
> beyond recognition. Wincing, he looked up into Blair's face and  
> shrugged. "Sorry, my mistake." 

It had been a week since Jim's funeral and Blair was where he had been every night since: in Simon's arms in Simon's bed. Tilting his head up for a quick kiss, Blair asked, "What do you think Jim would say?" 

"That he ordered me to take care of you," Simon smiled. "And he gave me those orders more than once." 

"He worried about leaving me alone, the difference in our ages made him crazy." Blair circled a finger around Simon's nipple. 

"We have some things to clean up, paper work, and stuff. It'll be a few weeks before the insurance company processes the claim. He made sure you'd be taken care of, financially, in case something happened to him. But I still want to file suit against the ambulance company." 

Blair stilled his hand. "No, Simon. We let it go. I don't want to deal with a long, drawn out court case. It won't bring Jim back. He made me face the fact that I might have to go on without him. He made me promise that I would get on with my life. It was important to him." 

Simon ran his fingers through Blair's curls. "I know, like he made me promise to take care of you." 

"Do you think he meant like this, I mean --" 

Pulling their naked bodies together, Simon kissed Blair. "Yes, I do. And he wanted you to go on with your work. He left written permission for you to use his name in your research after he was dead. He loved you and he wanted you to have the best of everything." 

"It was so special between us." 

"And so brief," Simon said. "But then life is brief and we do what we can." 

A large black cat with bright green eyes jumped up on the bed. 

"What the --?" Simon gasped. 

The cat butted his way between then, rubbing his head across their chests, purring. 

"Simon, I didn't know you had a cat." 

"I don't." 

Blair scratched the cat between the ears. "You do now." 

"Where did it come from?" 

The cat butted his head under Blair's chin, purring even louder. "It's Jim," he whispered. 

"Come on, Sandburg." 

"No, really, Simon. Think about it. Jim's spirit guide was a panther, but he couldn't very well show up in Cascade in the form of a wild cat, so he picked the next best thing." Blair stroked the thick soft hair. "I'll bet this guy weights thirty pounds." 

"He is a big cat, but how can he be *Jim*?" 

The cat licked Blair's nose, then sauntered to the foot of the bed and began to bath his thick black fur. 

"He just is. I'd bet money on it. And it appears that he's moving in here, with us." 

"Does that mean you'll stay here with me?" Simon watched the cat. 

"Meow." The cat waved a paw at them. 

"It looks like it's the three of us, together again," Blair laughed for the first time since that dreadful night when Jim had died. 

"Are we going to call him *Jim*?" 

"I think *Sentinel* would be more appropriate since I have a feeling he's going to be watching us." 

"He's going to watch us when we make love?" Simon stammered. 

"Meow." 

"Better he watch than give advice." 

"Okay. I give up." Simon laughed and pulled Blair in for a long, breath stealing kiss. 

"Ummm," Blair purred. 

The cat closed his eyes and went to sleep.  
  


* * *

Main Branch, #5 -- Editor 

No, I can't go on! Leave me, save yourselves! (Editor sighs and whips out her keyboard. It appears that they were leaving her no choice.) 

> "Better he watch than give advice."  
> "Okay. I give up." Simon laughed and pulled Blair in for a long,  
> breath stealing kiss.  
> "Ummm," Blair purred.  
> The cat closed his eyes and went to sleep. 

Blair giggled as Simon began to nuzzle his neck. It had always been a ticklish spot for him. "Simon, stop, stop!" 

His laughter was infectious, and Simon began to join in, kissing and giggling against Blair's neck, starting Blair's reaction all over again. They began to laugh harder, each one egging the other on, and Blair began to roll, trying to get away from the larger man. Simon chuckled and moved with him, determined to finish what he had started. He spread his legs to prevent Blair from rolling back from the corner of the bed he'd trapped the younger man in, and inadvertently kicked the black cat off the foot of the bed. 

"Oops," he laughed, not even looking down. "Sorry about that, kitty. Now, come here, you young stud, you." He grabbed Blair and tried to roll him back over on top of himself, but was startled to discover the cat had gotten there first. 

Angry blue slitted eyes stared down at Simon from the big man's chest, until Simon said softly, "Hey, Jim, I'm sorry, man. I forgot you were down there." 

The cat seemed to accept this apology, and moved forward to rub his cheek against Simon's. He began to purr and continued rubbing Simon's face, then attempted to lie down in the hollow Simon's throat, still purring contentedly. 

"Oh, my God!" the captain suddenly cried, reaching up to push the cat away. Jim dug his claws in to remain where he was, still rubbing determinedly against Simon's mouth and nose, and had to be forcibly pulled from Simon's upper chest by Blair, who flung him off the bed. 

"Simon, what's wrong, love?" he cried anxiously, watching in dismay as Simon gasped for breath and slapped at his cheeks, attempting to rub off the cat hairs Jim had left behind. 

The captain's gasps became more desperate, but also shallower, as his breathing turned into pants. "...Can't...breathe..." he managed as his throat swelled shut. His eyes opened wide, bugging out, as he scrabbled at his throat, before at last falling back against the bed, insensate. He gave one last rattling wheeze and ceased to breathe. 

The cat jumped back on the bed and sat down on Simon's unmoving chest, turning his head to fix Blair with an angry blue stare. 

"Oh, my God!" Blair moaned. "Anaphalactic shock. Simon never told me he was allergic to cats." 

Jim turned around three times and lay down on the pliant surface that was rapidly cooling. He put his head down on his paws and began to purr contentedly. He didn't even move when Blair put Simon's service revolver against his head and pulled the trigger, splattering the feline's brain matter across Simon's still face. 

The cat's brain was soon joined by Blair's own as he turned Simon's gun on himself. 

In the distance, a lone dog's barking echoed loudly, but in the apartment that had, just mere minutes before, contained three separate living beings, not a sound was heard.  
  


I TOLD you...don't screw with Editor when she's in zine farr.  
  


* * *

Main Branch, #6 -- Alexis 

Editor declared: 

> I TOLD you...don't screw with Editor when she's in zine farr.  


> Jim turned around three times and lay down on the pliant surface  
> that was rapidly cooling. He put his head down on his paws and began  
> to purr contentedly. He didn't even move when Blair put Simon's  
> service revolver against his head and pulled the trigger, splattering  
> the feline's brain matter across Simon's still face.  
> The cat's brain was soon joined by Blair's own as he turned Simon's  
> gun on himself.  


"You shot me. Damnit, Sandburg, you shot me." Jim's voice came from someplace in the thick fog. 

"Jim!" Blair twisted around, trying to see anything in the swirling wet fog. 

"Sandburg, why the hell did you shoot me?" 

"Where are you?" 

"Answer my question." 

"You killed Simon." 

"How the hell was I supposed to know he was allergic to cats?" 

Blair was making himself dizzy looking for the sound of Jim's voice. "Where are you? Forget that, where am I?" 

"The other side," Jim offered. 

"The other side of what?" 

"You're dead, Chief. Remember, you shot yourself right after you shot me." 

Blair studied his hands. "So this is dead." 

"It's not so bad. I was here before I jumped into bed with you and Simon. And speaking of which, it didn't take you very long to crawl into bed with him." 

"I was going crazy, man. You very dead. Shot, then run over by an ambulance. I needed someone and Simon was there." 

"Oh, a pity fuck," Jim snarled. 

"Hey, man, he was hurtin' too. We both loved you." 

Jim stepped out the shadowy mists. He was wearing white and was translucent with a golden glow that made him more beautiful than Blair ever remembered. "I know. It took me several days to understand that you taking care of each other was the best thing for both of you, but I wanted to be there, too, and I knew you'd recognize the cat. I just didn't know Simon was allergic." 

"Where is he anyway?" 

"Stuck in processing. We were a murder/suicide, violent section. Simon was natural causes. The paperwork's a bitch." 

"But he will be here?" 

Jim shrugged. "Would you be unhappy if he wasn't?" 

"Yeah, I think I would. Jim, Simon was there for me when you were dead. I mean the first time. Well, you know what I mean." 

"I guess," Jim allowed. "The first night wasn't so bad. He cuddled and comforted you while you cried over me. I didn't even mind when he slipped his hand in your pants and brought you off. I knew it would help you sleep." 

"You watched?" Blair was bewildered. 

"Every breath you took from the moment I was dead, ah, the second time. I died, then the panther made me return to my body because he indicated my work wasn't done, then the ambulance ran over me -- and the body was destroyed. So I was pretty much stuck here, but they let me watch." 

"They? They who?" 

"The guardian, spirit guides, angels. I haven't been here long enough find out more than that." 

"But you watched me? And Simon?" 

"I almost lost it the first time he fucked you. I thought you'd wait a little longer before you gave yourself to someone else." 

"Jim, it was Simon. If I had died first, I would have wanted him to be there for you." 

"Yeah, I know, which is why I changed my mind about the two of you. I knew you needed him to go on and he needed someone special, like you, in his life. It was do-able, but I wanted to be a part of it, too, before I had to go on to another lifetime." 

"Are you going to explain any of this or are you just going to keep talking in riddles?" Blair searched his memory for cultures who enbraced reincarnation. 

"There's an orientation that'll answer all your questions, but I was allowed to see you first, because of our Sentinel/guide relationship. We're joined, maybe even thoughout history. Not just a Sentinel and a guide, but the same Sentinel and guide in various times throughout history." 

"Cool. But I never found that anywhere in my research." 

"Top secret stuff. You're gonna like it here. Great library." 

"And where does Simon come in?" 

"It seems that sometimes a Sentinel and his guide need a supervisor type to keep them in line, or on track or something like that. Simon seems to be ours." 

"So we're supposed to be a trio or threesome or ..." 

"Yeah." Jim smiled and the dim fog brightened. 

"Blair. Jim," Simon called from a distance. 

"Over here," Blair responded. 

"You have strong feelings for him, Chief," Jim stated. "Are they stronger than your feelings for me?" 

"Nothing has ever been as strong as my love for you, but I want Simon in our lives too." Blair realized that was true and it surprised him. "Do you think you can love him?" 

"He and I have lovers before, in other lifetimes." 

"Blair," Simon called as he broke through the grey murkiness. 

Blair reached to wrap his arms around Simon and watched them pass through. 

"That's one of the draw backs of this place," Jim explained. "We can't touch each other." 

"But we can be together?" Blair asked. 

"Yes, Chief, we can be together, until we have to go back to work." Jim turned. "Follow me." 

Blair looked at Simon, then followed Jim. 

Jim waited for them in a clearing that overlooked mountains, forest, and ocean. "That's Cascade down there." Jim pointed to a spot below. "With a little practice, you can watch your son, Simon." 

Simon stared down. 

"I'm really sorry, Simon." Jim held out his hands. "I didn't mean to kill you. I had no idea." 

"Me, either. I mean, cats made my nose run and eyes itch, but I never had anything like that happen before." 

"Maybe we all needed to be here, now," Blair offered. 

"Maybe." Jim looked at the horizon. "I don't think I was supposed to die back there, the first time or the second time or whatever, but these things happen. I guess the powers that be needed us all together at the same time in the same place." 

"So they send us out on another, what, assignment?" Blair asked. 

"I think so. But we start all over as babies and we have to grow up and then find each other. It sounded a little crazy and they told me I could take some time to think about it. So I decided to be the cat for a while and just watch -- and then I killed Simon and we all ended up here." 

"This is crazy," Simon declared. 

"You wanna see your lifeless body in the morgue?" Jim challenged. 

Simon shook his head. "No, I believe I'm dead. Well, that the body that housed Simon Banks is dead. So what do we do now?" 

"It seems those of us who died by violence can take some time before we have to go back in the trenches. And I've died three times in less than two weeks by violence. Blair was a suicide and you were natural causes -- the rules are different and are all based around need. It's kind of a complicated system." 

"So we can just stand around and take some down time?" Simon asked. 

"But we can't touch each other," Blair sighed, "and strange as this may sound, I want to see you two kiss each other." 

Jim smiled. "I guess I should also tell you we won't look like this in the next life. We could all be women or Chinese or whatever. We'll have to find each other by what we feel." 

"Like the way you and I found each other this lifetime," Blair asked. 

"Yeah, maybe." 

"But you are, I mean, were older than me, so does that mean you have to start before me and then wait?" 

"Maybe. But then again, this time you may be older. The script is a little sketchy." 

"But we don't have to hurry?" Simon asked. 

"No, Simon, we can take our time here, safe for the moment, before we go back," Jim explained. 

"You're sure?" Simon asked. 

"Yes, Simon," Jim reassured, "and that seems to be important to you because you've asked twice." 

"The last few days have been a little stressed; losing you and finding Blair. I never knew I had such strong feelings for the kid." 

Blair snarled, "And the *kid* never knew the feeling was mutual." 

"Okay, then, " Jim smiled, "let's take a little time and be together."  
  


Okay, Editor, they're dead.  
  


* * *

Main Branch, #7 - Editor 

Oh, yes, they're dead. But there's no angst involved. If you guys had just left my original post alone... 

> "The last few days have been a little stressed; losing you and  
> finding Blair. I never knew I had such strong feelings for the kid."  
> Blair snarled, "And the *kid* never knew the feeling was mutual."  
> "Okay, then, " Jim smiled, "let's take a little time and be  
> together." 

"I'm so sorry, we can't allow that," a quiet Irish voice interrupted the group. Jim looked over and smiled, recognizing the long-haired raven beauty who stood before them. 

"Monica!" 

"Hi, Jim," Monica nodded, then motioned at the man who stood beside her. "This is Andrew. He needs to speak with you for a wee bit." 

The blond-haired man dressed in white stepped forward, a friendly smile on his face. "Hi, as Monica said, my name's Andrew. I'm the Angel of Death." 

"This is Blair Sandburg, my partner, and my captain, Simon Banks," Jim quickly introduced his companions. "What's going on? Is something wrong?" 

"Oh, I'm afraid so," Monica said regretfully. "I'm sorry to say, but you three don't belong here. There's been a mistake." 

Blair coughed in surprise. "A mistake?" he repeated disbelievingly. "What kind of a mistake could you make up here?" 

"Well, I glad to say we don't make them often," Andrew replied, after glancing at Monica, "but they do happen. See, Central Booking didn't stay on top of your cases, so we were missing vital, recent information when we made our decision to let you three stay here." 

"What kind of information?" Simon asked brusquely. 

"You," Monica pointed at Jim, her sweet voice growing harsh as she pulled her cupid's-bow mouth into a frown, "in cat form, willingly and with intent, climbed up into Simon Banks' face and rubbed your fur against his mouth and nose, knowing that he would go into anaphalactic shock and die. You are a murderer." 

"I--" Jim began, only to be cut off by Simon. 

"Jim, -did- you know I was allergic to cats?" 

Jim glanced at him nervously. "O-Of course not, Simon. How would I know that?" 

Andrew tsked, tsked him. "It was in his file, which you accessed not an hour before you returned to Earth in cat form. You knew." 

Jim hung his head. "Okay, I knew." 

"Jim--!" Blair cried. 

"But I was jealous! I mean, I'm only dead a few days and here're are Blair and Simon boffing like bunnies. I was angry, all right?" 

"Oh, Jim," Blair said softly. "We were consoling each other. We both missed you terribly." 

"Besides," Simon added in a near-silent aside meant only for Sentinel ears, "the kid's got some set of stones on him. And you know that stones are like elevators, right?" 

"You son of a bitch!" Jim leaped for Simon, only to suddenly freeze in mid-lunge, hanging in mid-air, his mouth frozen into an angry snarl. 

"There'll be none of that here," Monica admonished him gently. "Now," she turned to Simon, "you just admitted that you only took Blair to bed because you wanted to enjoy some...extra-curricular activities, shall we say?" The angel gave a delicate cough. 

"Well, I mean, I was feeling sorry for the kid," Simon explained, "being stuck with Ellison as a bedmate. He'd had such a limited amount of male/male contact--I just wanted to broaden hs horizons a little." 

"Broaden my horizons?!" Blair snapped. "I'm pouring my heart out to you, telling you how much I missed Jim--and you were telling me the same thing back, man!--and all you wanted was to get into my drawers?! I can't believe you, man!" 

"Hey, a guy's gotta get his leg over every once in a while. Do you know how long it's been for me?" Simon demanded. "You have to take every opportunity that comes along." 

"So you admit it?" Andrew asked. 

"Yeah, I admit it. So what?" Simon growled. "I'd do it again in a New York minute. In fact, I'll do it again now!" He leaped for Blair, only to be caught in the same odd, frozen moment as Jim. 

Blair stared at the two human icicles as they hung in mid-air, then turned to Monica and Andrew. "You don't have to tell me," he sighed. "I know what I did wrong. I committed suicide--one of the biggies, right?" 

Andrew shook his head, his blond mane brushing his shoulders. "No, suicide isn't a sin anymore," he told Blair. "Hey, if a human wants to get rid of his or her life and start over, then that's their choice. No, you did something far more serious, I'm afraid." He glanced at Monica and she nodded sadly. 

"What?" Blair looked back and forth between the two angels. "What? Come on, you can tell me. I mean, I'm the one who did it, right? You can tell me. Monica...?" 

The dark-haired angel blushed, but she leaned forward and whispered softly into Blair's ear. He listened intently, then waited while she leaned back. Snapping his head to stare her in the face, he laughed harshly. "THAT? THAT'S what's getting me kicked out of here?!" 

Monica and Andrew nodded. 

"Oh, c'mon, there were extenuating circumstances! I was... He was... They were... C'mon," he tried again, "we were all adults!" 

"I'm really sorry," Andrew said with genuine regret shining from his eyes. "But those are the rules. You'll have to come this way." 

He motioned for the three to follow him as he turned and began walking away. Blair felt a compulsion to follow the angel and couldn't get his legs to stop taking him in that direction. Simon and Jim had no choice; they simply floated along in the air after Andrew, silent and frozen. 

They walked/floated for what seemed to Blair to be several hours, none of the three ever able to catch up to the Angel of Death just in front of them. Monica had just disappeared into thin air. 

At long last, Andrew stopped in front of a looming white wall that had nine large doors on it, each one painted with a big red number. Andrew motioned at the third door, which opened by itself. Then he motioned at Simon and the frozen body floated toward the door, then disappeared inside, the door sealing itself shut. Blair shivered, imagining that he could hear Simon scream in agony. 

Andrew shook his head sorrowfully, and motioned Jim toward the fifth door, which opened to admit him. Since Blair was closer to this door, he could actually smell sulpher in the stench that wafted to him from its depths. Jim floated inside, and the door closed on him with a loud clang that echoed with a finality that chilled Blair to the bone. 

He imagined he could hear Jim crying, //Blair.....!// It broke his heart. 

Andrew stood before the seventh door and faced Blair. "This is yours," he said softly. "I'm really sorry things didn't work out for you, Blair. But when you get your chance at renewal in 5,000 years, remember--you put the -lime- in the -cocconut-." 

"Yeah, man," Blair said tightly, feeling a compulsion to step forward into the roaring heat he could feel already singing his chest and arm hairs. "I'll remember. Give my regards to Broadway, man." The door closed behind him. 

Andrew dropped his head on his chest in anguish, his soft voice barely audible past the lump in his throat. "I'll even remember you to Herald Square," he promised.  
  


* * *

* * *

First Alt. Branch, #1 -- Katrina 

Fortified by the Cook's brownies (yummy!) and in the mood to take my life in my hands, I crack my knuckles, wriggle my fingers and write thusly: 

> KA-THUMP! KA-THUMP!  
> Simon looked down at the man who had just been run over and squashed  
> beyond recognition. Wincing, he looked up into Blair's face and  
> shrugged. "Sorry, my mistake."  


"Gheeeurg," Jim gurgled. 

Blair gave Simon an exasperated glare as he dropped to his knees. "Like something as petty as being run over by an ambulance would be enough to take Jim away from me." Kneeling closer, he bent his head down to Jim's. "Can you hear me, Big Guy?" 

One of the paramedics piped up helpfully. "Um, I think his ear is over there now." 

"Oh, yeah, thanks. Jim?" 

Jim raised one mangled arm. "Brauuumpug," he intoned solemnly. 

Out of nowhere, a long black car pulled up. A man in an expensive suit got out and walked over to Jim and Blair. Standing over the two, he eyed Jim's broken body appaisingly. 

Blair looked up. "Well, Mr. Goldman? Whaddaya think?" 

Oscar Goldman nodded. "Yep. We can rebuild him. We have the technology. Of course, the rates *have* gone up."  
  


> Hey, don't screw with Editor. When I kill somebody, they STAY dead! 

Ah, but was Jim All Dead or merely Mostly Dead? And when True Love calls....  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #2 -- Editor 

Editor demands to know when the hell this thing turned into a round-robin?! Okay, you people asked for it! 

> Blair looked up. "Well, Mr. Goldman? Whaddaya think?"  
> Oscar Goldman nodded. "Yep. We can rebuild him. We have the  
> technology. Of course, the rates *have* gone up."  


Blair began to dig in his pocket. "Um...I have $1.32. Is that enough?" 

Oscar blinked at him. "Pardon me?" 

Blair turned to Simon. "Help me out here, man. This is Jim's life we're talking about. How much have you got on you?" 

Simon reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of unidentifiable objects. "Let's see...KY jelly, jelly babies, grape jelly..." He looked up at the anthropologist. "I jam awfully sorry, but I'm broke." 

Blair frowned. "Then Jim's toast, man." He turned back to Oscar. "Could you float us a loan, maybe?" 

Oscar shook his head. "I don't have that much cash to sink into this venture. Sorry. But do continue, you're doing swimmingly." He turned on his heel and got back in his car, and nodded for the driver to get him the hell out of this scene. 

"Iglepoop," Jim cried beseechingly. 

Blair frowned down at him. "Did you say 'Iggy Pop'?" he questioned. Jim groaned and rolled his eyes, then, without warning, began to dissolve into a mass of green slime. "Ugh!" Blair shouted, jumping back in disgust. 

"Oh, my God," Simon said softly, his voice breaking in disbelief. "Blair, he was one of...them." 

"Them?" 

"Yeah, them," Simon went on. "You know, the Moth people--" 

"You mean, the Mothren?" 

"Right, the Mothren. Those intergalactic neo-Nazis who swooped down and stole all the light bulbs brighter than 40 watts. And all their names were Arthur." 

"Watts that--er, I mean, what's that got to do with Jim?" Blair demanded, watching the love of his life give one last burp before being washed away by a sudden rain shower. Each atom of the green goo was sped to differing storm drains, never to be reunited again. 

"Lighten up, man," Simon laughed, throwing his arm around Blair and guiding him down the street. "Jim got slimed. He never stood a ghost of a chance." 

They danced down the street, singing in the rain (it was in their genes), "Great green globs of greasy, grimey gopher guts..." 

Sam Wheat stood, watching them go, then turned to the man beside him. "Man, what were they SSS-MOKING?" 

Egon Spengler frowned at him in annoyance. "Mr. Wheat, Jim Carrey Day isn't until tomorrow." 

((Editor will give a free zine (of her choice) to the first person to name all the movie/tv references in this (thankfully) short scene. And then demands that person be shot for even ATTEMPTING to undertand what evil lurks in the hearts of man--er, to understand what depravity her Editorness can sink to.))  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #1A -- Summer Rain 

> Oscar Goldman nodded. "Yep. We can rebuild him. We have the  
> technology. Of course, the rates *have* gone up."  


Oscar turned towards the other man in the car who stepped out. "Well, Rudy. What do you think? Can we rebuild him?" 

Blair watched the man with the moustache leaned over Jim, looking at him closely before nodding his head. 

"Yes, it can be done. I have some new things I wanted to try out as well, some new bionics I was working on." Rudy said, looking back up at Oscar. He turned back to Jim and placed his face above Jim's. 

"Sir. We can help you. We can rebuild your body, but the procedure is still somewhat experimental. Would you agree to it?" 

"rmmphg!" Jim replied looking panicked. 

"Good, good," Oscar said, he turned as another ambulance came to stop behind them and called for some medical officers from the ISO to come and pick Jim up from the street. 

Simon and Blair just watched the whole scene incredulously finally Blair ran forward as they were about to load Jim into the ambulance. 

"Wait, where are you taking him? What do you mean you are going to rebuild him?" Blair said putting a hand out to stop the stretcher The stretcher swayed precariously as the officers struggled not to let it fall. 

"Relax, kid." 

Blair turned around at the new voice, stepping out of the black car a man with tight pants and sideburns stepped out and swaggered over to the ambulance. 

Oscar Goldman turned towards Blair. "I'd like you to meet Col. Steve Austin, our first bionic man." 

Blair looked at Austin's groin, where the tight pants were leaving little to the imagination, he licked his lips appreciatively. 

"When you say bionic, can you make everything bionic?" 

"Everything," Steve said smiling. 

Blair turned back to look at Jim with a smile on his face. *Hmm, a bionic, Jim.* 

"Okay, take him with you," he said climbing into the ambulance with Jim.  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #2A --Editor 

Editor smiles wickedly. "Oh, too easy," she murmurs. 

> Blair turned back to look at Jim with a smile on his face. *Hmm, a  
> bionic Jim.*  
> "Okay, take him with you," he said climbing into the ambulance with  
> Jim. 

Lee Brackett stood up and shaded his eyes, watching the scene taking place below him as he stood at the top of the hill. Casually, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box and flipped one of the two switches adorning its top. A yellow light came on, glowing brightly. 

Looking down the hill, he waited until until the still-moving body of Jim Ellison had been placed within the ambulance, followed by the curious anthropologist, the annoyingly straight-laced captain, and two innocent EMTs. When the last man had entered and pulled the door shut, the ambulance began its journey down the street, its siren wailing. 

Smiling, Brackett flipped the second switch on the black box and a red light began to glow. In the distance, the ambulance suddenly became non-existent as each of its atoms disassociated itself with its neighbor with explosive impact, causing a large hole in the middle of the street. Grinning, Lee put the box back into his pocket and pulled out his List of Things To Do Today, checking off "Blow cast of 'The Sentinel' to hell and back' with a satisfied sigh.  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #3A -- Katrina 

> Editor smiles wickedly. "Oh, too easy," she murmurs.  


Tsk, Editor. You think that's going to stop us? 

> Smiling, Brackett flipped the second switch on the black box and a  
>red light began to glow. In the distance, the ambulance suddenly became  
>non-existent as each of its atoms disassociated itself with its neighbor  
>with explosive impact, causing a large hole in the middle of the street.  
>Grinning, Lee put the box back into his pocket and pulled out his List  
>of Things To Do Today, checking off "Blow cast of 'The Sentinel' to hell  
>and back' with a satisfied sigh.  


"Not so fast, Brackett!" 

Brackett whirled around, to find himself confronted by the extraordinarily alive forms of Jim, Blair and Simon. "What? But... but how?" 

Blair shook his head. "Is that the best you can do? 'But... but how?' Geez, all you bad guys say the same thing." 

"Hush, snookums." Jim took a stalwart step forward. "You just blew up our clones, Brackett. There are hundreds, nay, thousands of us! Not even you, or Evil Editor-type Persons Who Shall Remain Nameless, can kill us all. But you will have to pay the city of Cascade for the ambulance crew. They don't come cheap." 

As Brackett collapsed into a gibbering heap, Blair and Jim went off to prepare for a truly impressive orgy with their (fully functional) duplicates. Meanwhile, Simon organized his clones into teams for a bid whist tournament and proceded to pass a very pleasant evening indeed.  
  


(Katrina looks at the plate of brownies beside her keyboard. What the hell did you put *in* these things, Cook?)  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #4A -- Editor 

> As Brackett collapsed into a gibbering heap, Blair and Jim went off  
> to prepare for a truly impressive orgy with their (fully functional)  
> duplicates. Meanwhile, Simon organized his clones into teams for a bid  
> whist tournament and proceded to pass a very pleasant evening indeed.  


Deckard shut off the monitor and shook his head sadly. "Don't those poor saps know that all those clones have a defect in their makeup? That they have a limited lifespan? Don't they know that..." he looked at his watch, "...that they're all going to die within the hour?" 

Rachel smiled and wrapped her arms around her Bladerunner. "If the little death is going to turn into the big death, why not have fun while it lasts?" 

Deckard turned in her arms and laughed. "Are there any more like you at home?" he whispered in her ear. 

The dark-haired android smiled. "You'd be surprised, lover."  
  


* * *

First Alt. Branch, #5A -- Editor 

>> Deckard turned in her arms and laughed. "Are there any more like  
>> you at home?" he whispered in her ear.  
>> The dark-haired android smiled. "You'd be surprised, lover."  


Katrina zoobedoos: 

> I concede to the Mistress of Madness. But geeeez, now we'll never find  
> out how the whist tournament turns out....  


Simon was ahead for several hands, until Jim caught him cheating and Blair demanded he be put to death, as was stipulated in the rules. Jim agreed, and wanted to use his service revolver. Blair argued that Jim's back-up piece was much more in keeping with the style of death being handed out (and besides, he liked the feel of it in his hands). Simon got tired of waiting for them to decide and pulled out his AK-47 and shot them both multiple times (they died as they had lived--quickly and in a heap), then turned the gun on himself. The barrel of the machine gun was too long for him to put it against his head and still reach the trigger, but luckily, the wall behind him was made of Kevlar and a ricochet blew half his brain away.  
  


* * *

* * *

Second Alt. Branch, #1 -- Janette 

"Madness takes its toll" continued... 

Blair wakes with a start to find himself lying on the forest ground. He sits up looking frantically around for his love, "Jim! Jim, where are you?" 

"Take it easy, Blair. I'm right here." Jim kneels down, taking Blair into his arms and kissing him gently on the forehead. 

"Jim, where are we? The last thing I remember was the ambulance and-" 

"Shh, it's all over now. Everything's going to be alright. Were safe now. No harm can ever come to us here. No force can seperate us." 

"Jim, are we-?" 

"Yes, Blair." 

"Oh god. I can't believe it. We're dead." 

"But look at this place, it's paradise. Get up. Come with me." 

"I'll follow you anywhere Jim." 

The Sentinel takes his beloved Guide's hand and leads him down the dirt trail. They emerge from the forest to find themselves in a small village, bustling with people. 

"Here we are, Chief. The afterlife." 

"Oh, man. I feel so happy, Jim, so content. I know I shouldn't because we just died, but I do." 

"I feel the same way, Blair. We should feel this way. Here we will be reunited with the one's we love and most incredible of all, spend eternity together." 

"I love you, Jim." Blair reaches his hand up, cupping the back of Jim's head pulling him down into a long passionate kiss. When their kiss ended, they stood there for a long while, just holding each other, thanking the gods for allowing them to be together. 

Jim finally broke their embrace and pulled him further into the village, "Come on, Blair, it's time for new beginnings."  
  


* * *

Second Alt. Branch, #2 -- Editor 

> Jim finally broke their embrace and pulled him further into the  
> village, "Come on, Blair, it's time for new beginnings."  


They were stopped at the outskirts of The Village by a man wearing a shirt patterned with large horizontal red-and-white stripes. 

"Number?" muttered the man in a British accent, looking down at his clipboard. Jim and Blair looked at each other puzzledly. "Number?" the man asked again, annoyance creeping into his tone. 

"555-2305," Blair answered. 

The man began writing the number down, then stopped, looking up angrily. "That's too many," he growled. "Quit jacking about. What's your number?" 

Blair shrugged at Jim; he'd given it a shot--it obviously wasn't their phone number the man wanted. 

"Seven," Jim said suddenly, his demeanor making it obvious he was picking a figure out of the air. Blair nodded; he could do that. 

"Eighteen," he said with confidence. 

"'S better," the man muttered, writing the numbers down on his clipboard, then rifling through a packet on his belt before handing them each a large triangular pin. "Welcome to The Village, Number Seven, Number Eighteen. Enjoy your stay!" 

With sideways glances at each other, Jim and Blair pinned on the triangles and proceeded into The Village. As they walked through the quaint town square, each pointed out oddities to the other. 

"Jim," Blair elbowed his lover, "get a load of this! When was the last time you saw someone riding a pennyfarthing bike?!" 

Jim nimbly skipped to one side to avoid being run over by said bike, the rider doffing his cap at him good-naturedly. "Not since that last documentary you made me sit through," he replied, then started to laugh. Blair stopped and turned to see what he was laughing at, and began to giggle himself. 

Just behind them and to their right, a man was rolling toward them across a great expanse of green in what seemed to be a giant rubber balloon. The ballon was so large that it kept leaving the ground as the wind swept it aloft for several seconds at a time. Each time the balloon touched down again, the man inside would stumble and nearly fall, hitting the sides of the balloon hard enough to alter its course. Thus, the entire effect was of a large cue ball weaving its way drunkenly toward a pocket on a billiard table. 

The loud speaker attached to a pole at the street corner suddenly informed them that shuffleboard was starting in Hut 9, and for those interested, origami classes were being offered by Number Twelve in Hut 2\. 

"I am not a number!" a loud male voice shouted without warning, and Jim yanked Blair out of the path of a fleeing man who had emerged from a nearby building. "I am NOT a number!" 

Blair watched the man disappear around a corner, then looked up at Jim, nodding in agreement. "Cool!" he laughed. 

Jim opened his mouth to deliver his opinion of the silliness of the afterlife he and Blair had been assigned to when a large, well-muscled arm snaked around his neck and he felt himself being jerked back against the chest of a burly man who smelled of elderberries. 

"We want information!" the man growled in his ear. 

Black ops training kicked into high gear. First rule of being held captive: annoy your captors. "You won't get it," Jim answered in a whisper, forcing his voice out beyond the arm cutting off his windpipe. 

"We want information!" a different voice insisted. Jim focused on the owner, and saw his lover being held by a second man, who was also choking Blair slowly. 

"You won't...get it," Blair echoed JIm, willing to take his lead in this matter. 

"Number Two wants the information," Jim's captor growled. 

//Number Two?// Jim thought briefly before losing consciousness as the bloodflow was cut off to his brain. //We only deal with the top brass. Who is Number One?// 

Blair watched Jim go limp, throwing his captor off balance. Together, the two men fell over onto an area of grass that seemed to be marked off by a strip of blue. 

"No!" cried Blair's captor, releasing Blair as he stepped back in horror. Blair didn't waste any time; he ran straight for Jim--and got cut down by automatic machine gun fire. All three men's bodies jerked as the bullets found their marks. After several seconds, the machine guns, which were mounted to poles at each end of the blue-marked field and seemed to be activated by motion detectors, fell silent. 

"Jim..." Blair managed to wheeze as he watched Jim's blue eyes dim and empty of life, and felt himself dying again for the second time that day, "I am a free man..."  
  


* * *

Second Alt. Branch #3 -- Summer Rain 

> "Jim..." Blair managed to wheeze as he watched Jim's blue eyes dim  
>and empty of life, and felt himself dying again for the second time that  
>day, "I am a free man..."  


Blair startled awake. Before him stood a blonde man of medium build in a janitors uniform. He looked around the room for the first time realizing that he appeared to be in a hospital room. Jim wasn't with him. Then he remembered Jim was dead...but wait wasn't Jim alive and then had gotten shot so he was dead? Blair moaned completely confused now. Was Jim dead or wasn't he. Now that he thought about it wasn't he supposed to be dead too. So what was he doing here in the hospital room? 

He looked over to see the janitor was still in the room and was looking at him as if sizing him up. The man approached the bed and Blair sat up suddenly, alarmed at the man who kept glancing at the door as if he knew he was going to do something wrong. The man reached for Blair and put his hand over his mouth as Blair was about to yell out. 

"Shh. It's okay," he said only letting go of Blair's mouth when it looked like he wasn't going to scream. 

"I don't have a number. I don't have information," Blair began babbling. The man looked at him strangely for a moment before understanding dawned on his face. 

"They pulled that on you, too. Let me guess, the village they asked for your number requested information and then shot you," he said. Blair nodded, now he was really confused. How did the man know all of this. 

"It's a mind game man. There is no village. They play so many tricks on you after a while you start believing your dead," he said, obviously disguted with "they" whoever "they" were. 

"How do you know all this?" Blair asked. 

The man looked at him for a moment apparently deciding that he could trust him before speaking. 

"My name is Tom Veil, I have been on the run for months from the "Organization" as they are called. This clinic belongs to them and I am here to get information." 

Blair sat up on the bed and extened his hand, "I'm Blair. If what you have said is true that means Jim isn't really dead and is here around him some where. I have to find him." 

"These people are very dangerous, Blair." 

"I have to do this. Jim is a very good detective Tom. If you help me free him I promise we will help you find your answers." Blair shook his head. "I'm still trying to figure out how we got here, who set us up." 

"I don't know that much about them. The only thing that is a constant is that they all seem to like cigars." 

"Cigars. I don't know anyone who...Oh my god, Simon!"  
  


* * *

Second Alt Branch, #4 -- Editor 

> "I don't know that much about them, The only thing that is a  
> constant is that they all seem to like cigars"  
> "Cigars. I don't know anyone who...Oh my god, Simon"  


Simon muted the sound on the monitor and turned to his colleagues. "They've figured out that I'm one of you. Now what?" 

Kate Austin laughed and took a deep pull on her cigar, passing the lighter over to Phillip Watters. "You guys are so out of the loop. We kill them, of course. Where have you been for the last day?" 

Cindy Crawford blew a perfect smoke ring, then smiled beatifically at the assembled group. "I've taken care of it," she murmured in a husky voice. "I told Prometheus to light my fire." 

Cancer Man had been watching the monitor while his fellow cigar enthusiasts conferred. "Look at this, ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly. "Simon, turn it back up." 

On the screen, Blair, Jim, Tom Veil and Chance Harper were each checking out an avenue of escape from a room engulfed by flame. One by one, they admitted defeat in their area and moved back to the middle of the room. The clear space around them slowly began to recede under the encroachment of the fire. At last, the flames reached the men, who screamed horribly as they were burned alive. Nearly five minutes after the cigar-smoking group began watching, the four men had been reduced to four blackened, smouldering lumps of charcoal on the floor. 

Tea Leoni turned the monitor off and began to laugh. It had been a good day.  
  


* * *

* * *

Third Alt. Branch, #1 -- Karen 

Blair awoke, drenched in sweat. He was still having nightmares, a week after Jim's death. Would he ever forget the sight of Jim's lifeless body, the touch of his rapidly cooling skin? 

Blair dragged himself from the king-sized bed where he'd been sleeping solo for the past 6 nights and made his way downstairs to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his fevered face. 

As he opened the bathroom door, Blair was enveloped in a cloud of steam. He didn't remember leaving the shower running. As the vapor began to clear, Blair realized that someone was actually in the shower. He peered anxiously at the figure. Was it? Could it be? 

The cloud dissipated and at the same moment the person turned. Blair found himself looking straight into the face of... 

"Bobby!?! What the hell are *you* doing up here in Washington, man!?!"  
  


You didn't really expect it to be Jim now, did you? Actually, I was going to use Jim, but as Mysti is just going to kill him again anyway, I'll feel better if she offs Bobby Ewing instead!  
  


* * *

Third Alt. Branch, #2 -- Editor 

> "Bobby!?! What the hell are *you* doing up here in Washington,  
> man!?!"  


Dark-haired Bobby Ewing stumbled out of the shower, his clothes dripping wet. He shook first one leg, then the other, in exasperation, flinging water everywhere. "Damn temporal wormholes," he muttered. "Every time I even get near a shower, some damn wormhole comes along and grabs me and sends me someplace else!" He looked up at Blair, frustration clear in his blue eyes. "I'm developing a phobia about spray nozzles!" 

Blair looked at Bobby, then glanced into the shower, making sure it was empty, then looked back at Bobby. "Um...you haven't seen my partner anywhere, have you?" 

"Tall fellow, short dark hair, grumpy attitude?" Bobby asked, nodding when Blair nodded first. "Oh, yeah, I've seen him. Wouldn't hold too much hope out for him, though." He shook his head sadly. "Last time I saw him, he was headed down the slide that leads to Dinoworld. And I've heard T-rex sits just outside the landing point there, gobbling up everybody who dares enter his world. Sorry, pal, I think you're out one partner." 

A sudden loud clattering as something dropped to the floor of the shower startled both men. Turning, they saw half a pair of handcuffs and the last two inches of a dildo lying in the bottom of the stall. 

Blair flushed crimson and turned away, but Ewing laughed. 

"That your partner's?" he asked, biting his lip to keep from guffawing in Blair's face. "Looks like he was good to the last drop. T-rex must be happy right about now." 

"Shut up!" Blair growled, pushing the shower door wider and throwing Bobby back in. He slammed the door shut and threw his back against it, holding it closed against Bobby's frantic pounding, until it suddenly...ceased. 

Blair turned around and cautiously opened the door. Bobby was gone as though he had never been--but in his place was a trembling Jim Ellison, sitting on the floor of the shower, naked and wet. Blair moved to pull him out, but Jim shook his head weakly. 

"I'm bit, Blair," he said softly, indicating his back that he was keeping pressed against the wall of the shower. "The dino didn't like my looks and decided I'd make a nice snack." 

Blair's eyes widened as he saw the slow stream of blood that was wending its way toward the drain. "Oh, man..." he murmured. "Jim..." 

"It's okay," Ellison cut him off gently. "Doesn't hurt that much. I think he severed the spinal cord." 

"Can you move?" Blair wanted to know, reaching toward his Sentinel. 

"No!" Jim cried, then repeated softly, "No, Blair. Let me just...lie here. It'll be over soon enough." 

The grad student roughly brushed tears off his cheeks and looked at his lover helplessly. "What can I do, man?" 

Jim smiled tiredly. "Sing to me, Blair. Sing me our song. That's the last thing I want to hear, babe. Last thing before I go." 

"I... I..." Blair shook his head, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Aw, man..." he moaned softly. Tears welled up in his eyes again, making the blueness of his irises shine brightly. 

"Please, Chief..." Jim sighed. He gasped in pain, then sighed again as it dissapated. "For me, babe. For me." 

Blair slid down the glass of the shower door, leaning forward to take his lover's cold hand in his own. Even as the gaze Jim rested on him turned into a death stare and his body released its last breath, Blair closed his eyes and began to sing his lover on his way to Valhalla with their special song. 

"Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce. Special orders don't upset us..." 

THE END (thank god!)

* * *

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